


Running Water

by orphan_account



Category: Sylvia Scarlett (1935)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Characters, Female Protagonist, Ficlet, Memories, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Suicide Attempt, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-06
Updated: 2007-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sylvia Scarlett was a weird movie that often didn't make sense and that I only watched for Katherine Hepburn looking fantastically queer. I don't really know where this came from.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Running Water

**Author's Note:**

> Sylvia Scarlett was a weird movie that often didn't make sense and that I only watched for Katherine Hepburn looking fantastically queer. I don't really know where this came from.

Lily burned all her bridges. One summer's flame was autumn's ashes - that was the way to live, the only way, because if the road was burned behind her, no monsters could catch up.

She liked her little fires, her little flames.

Of course she hadn't tried to drown herself over Michael - what a foolish thing that would have been. She'd just been for a swim. She'd longed for icy water, the pressure of the waves on her skin. Perhaps as she'd ducked her head under water and swam too far she was thinking of some dark and squalid things

\- splashed on her mother's priceless carpet, the white Indian weave spotted red -

\- 'Come on, my dear, don't cry, it'll only hurt a moment' -

but surely that meant nothing.

Betty had cried and screamed at her that night, and deservedly. That was fine - she would not think of Betty anymore - her sweet lips and sweeter thighs, her sighs of love - Betty would find some other girl.

She had not tried to douse the fire, drown her self. She loved the fire.

She had simply tried to wash away the burning dust; but it went too deep; she realized, as she began to cry Michael's name, that that was all there was; dust and ashes down to her core; and water, and wine, and other people's sighs.

She cried for Michael, forgetting he wasn't there, that he didn't love her, that no-one did, and that soon there'd be nothing left.


End file.
